Love and Death
by StarLightAtTheMoon
Summary: Could 'Masque of the Red Death' have a - more or less - happy ending? Slash, Character Deaths. Rating might be changed for future chapters
1. Another Person's Point of View

**01: Another Person's Point of View**

Timeline: Starting off at the night of the Gold Chamber and then goes on from there

Disclaimer: All characters or places you recognize from 'Masque of the Red Death' belongs to Wendy Pini

Summary: Could 'Masque of the Red Death' have a (more or less) happy ending?

A/N: This is an AU (Alternative Universe) story, through which I explore how it could have gone if some things was different from the original story in the comic... not to say that I don't appreciate a tragic ending, but I got the idea for this story and it stuck to my mind and probably will be there till I've finished it... .

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><p>The young woman was walking down an empty corridor, hearing in the distance the echoing of music. It's coming from the Chamber of the night, the gold one, where people are partying. She couldn't understand how they could go on like that, knowing that on the outside there was death, as if nothing had happened. As if they didn't care at all.<p>

She stopped by a window, and folding her arms on the window sill she stared out over the water separating the island from the shore where her home had been.

Tears began to fall down her cheeks thinking of her home, a home she had shared with her loved one. He wasn't here on the island, he had been left behind, something that she now regretted. She thought that she shouldn't have agreed when her mother had shared with her the idea, that she would go to Penumbra with her sister, Sofi, when the mother had found out that her eldest daughter had been invited to the party.

Now she wished that she'd stayed with him, that they'd spent the last moments of their lives in each other's company instead of him dying over there alone when she was on the island, living, yet feeling oddly dead inside, but probably as lonely as him.

Alana raised a blue hand to wipe away tears that were immediately replaced by new ones and emotions that had earlier been suppressed surfaced. She didn't show her sorrow when she was among the others didn't cry for what she'd lost, (would they understand anyway?), but now when she was alone she could let the tears fall with no care for what other's might think.

She was pulled out of her thoughts when the music suddenly stopped playing and everything went dead silent. Alana turned to look out at the sky outside, judging by the position of the full moon the party shouldn't be over yet in a while, but before long the music started again. Whatever had happened, it probably wasn't anything big, she thought.

Alana hadn't, and wasn't going to, take part in what was going on inside the Chambers. She had been confronted about receiving the attomons, but she had no desire to do so. She saw no point in living forever, everything and everybody she'd ever loved had died away from her. Anyway, when she thought about living forever she got the feeling that it would be kind of… dull. Doing the same things every day with no end, seeing no other than the others stuck in the mansion. A shiver went through her at the thought. That arrangement might work for some, but she didn't think that it was something she would be comfortable with.

A yawn escaped her and Alana decided that it was time to head back to her quarters. Walking she was engrossed in her own thoughts and was knocked onto her butt when she suddenly crashed into someone coming from the other direction as she rounded a corner.

Confused about the sudden collision she looked around trying to catch up with what had just happened. Her eyes stopped on a pair of legs that had been stuck into a pair of boots which just barely reached the knees. The legs took a few steps forward, halting next to her, and the knees bent. A face come into her view and it was the face of an angel.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," Alana replied, giving a small nod. Immediately very aware of the tears on her face, which hadn't dried yet, she turned from the young man wiping the tears away.

"There's no need for you to feel ashamed of crying in front of me," he said softly.

He reached out and helped her back to her feet, and meanwhile she watched him seeing that he looked sad.

"Why aren't you down at the party?" she asked as they both stood.

He flinched as if he'd been slapped in the face.

"There was an incident," he replied evasive. "Why are you wandering around?"

"I can't sleep," the young islander said.

"Why not?"

There was, as well as a concerned tone in his voice, one that told of that he had an idea of what was bothering her.

Alana sighed, dragging her bare foot over the floor, a sure sign that she was feeling uncomfortable.

"I haven't slept very well for some time. I have bad dreams about what's going on out there." She jerked her head in the direction of the nearest window. "About my family and my friends. I don't really know anything about their fates, but in the dreams I see them die."

"I'm sorry," he said.

She looked at him, eyebrow raised.

"You're sorry?" she asked. "For what?"

"For killing them." He stared into her eyes, the sorrow in his so clear that it was heartbreaking. "If I hadn't brought the formula of the island mother wouldn't have gotten her hands on it, and she wouldn't have handed it over to Trankule." When explaining he spoke fast, this was something he needed to get of his chest and he thought that if he was interrupted he would never get it out. "I was jealous, heartbroken, and I wanted to hurt him just as much as he'd hurt me. I wasn't going to do anything with it, just keep the formula for a while, let him squirm, so that he would understand how I felt."

He took a deep breath to steady himself, blinking rapidly against the tears that were gathering in his eyes.

"You're talking about Prosper, aren't you?" Alana commented.

"Yes."

He sighed and closed his eyes, reliving a painful memory of just too recently.

"It wasn't your fault," she said watching his beautiful face, contorted in agony. Slowly, hesitating, his green eyes opened and he gazed at the young woman standing in front of him, a look of uncertainty on his face. "It was unintentional. It's not like you handed over the formula, was it?"

"No, mother took it when I wasn't looking."

"And you didn't give it to her knowing how she would be acting if you did?"

He nodded.

"I don't think that it's your fault," Alana repeated quietly.

He stopped, and she did for the first time notice that they'd been walking.

"How can you not? If it wasn't for me, your family and friends would still be alive!" he exclaimed in disbelief.

"Because of you?" she said. "_Really_? It seem to me like it was rather your mother and Trankule's fault, if you're to blame someone." She added quickly: "But I'm not. Mother raised me better than that."

When Alana mentioned her mother Steffan gazed at her, the guilt giving way for curiosity.

"She seems to care about you," he said softly. "Your mother, I mean."

But mixed in amidst the curiosity there was also bitterness, thinking of the care his own mother had shown him, and regret for her having passed away.

"Cared," Alana corrected him. "She was at home when…"

She didn't finish, both because of the tears rising in her eyes and because she saw how he turned his eyes to stare at the floor, the guilt back with full force.

"_Alana_!"

Both the male and the female turned as a voice called the name, and they saw a female islander similar in appearance to Alana come hurrying toward them. She was smiling widely and if Alana hadn't stepped out of the way Sofi would have, and not for the first time in the last few days, thrown herself at her - probably still high on the effect the attomons would induce. Despite the efforts to keep the sister at distance, Sofi got close enough to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, although that had not been the intended destination for the lips.

Alana pushed the other away far enough for there to be some air between them, at which she adjusted her top and cleared her throat. She looked around to find a way out, and thanked whatever deity coming to mind when she saw the door to her quarters further down the corridor.

"I think that I should give sleep another chance after all," she spoke her thoughts. "Goodnight, handsome. Sofi."

She hurried to her quarters, looking back once and then entered, happy to have avoided the argument that she was sure would have come hadn't she left.


	2. A Tormented Mind

**02: A Tormented Mind**

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><p>When Steffan had finally lain down to sleep, exhausted but with thoughts racing through his tired mind, it would take hours before sleep reached him. He had been agonizing, the scenes playing in his mind over and over, as though with no end…<p>

His sleep on the other hand had been surprisingly peaceful, no dreams terrorizing him, and when he woke up it had been like any other morning. He'd been lying in the bed gazing out through the window at the sky, which then had been clear blue with no clouds, squinting a little when the sun hit his eyes. There were no thoughts, no memories, no problems, just an absolute serenity.

But that calm state of mind had been ruthlessly shattered when he crawled out of the bed to sit on its edge. He froze at the sight of the costume lying there in a heap on the floor, abandoned after having been shed.

Steffan had buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes tightly shut at the memories.

Now an hour or so later he sighed looking down into the glass he was holding in his hand. It was about ten a.m. but he'd already started to drink, his thoughts compelled him to do so. Though, the 'drink-and-you'll-feel-better'-plan seemed to have backfired on him, it only made him feel worse.

He raised the glass, but instead of drinking he gazed down at the liquid held within the walls of the crystal. That's how he felt right now, like a prisoner trapped between the walls of the mansion – walls that only seemed to be closing in on him. A part of him wished that he had never returned, and maybe it would have been better if he and his mother hadn't been invited at all…

Steffan shook his head. It was too late for wishes now. Once upon a time he'd solely had one wish, a wish for him and Anton to have a future together, but now there were so many other wishes crowding casting the single on into the background to disappear into the shadows.

How could he have been so stupid, thinking that he was in control, that he could just reach out and Anton would be in his grasp? All while they'd been dancing, all while they'd been talking, Anton had been the one in control but Steffan had missed that completely. He had been too focused on that blind hope.

"Looking for something?"

Steffan blinked confused. He'd been sitting staring down into the glass that was now sitting on the table cradled by his both hands. Blushing slightly being caught off guard, he turned to see a young woman standing by the table. She was pretty short and her skin had the light blue tone of an Islander, her deep red hair fell in soft waves to her waist and her eyes were green and held a sparkle in them that he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen in his own.

"My dignity," Steffan replied, and there was an edge of bitterness in his voice. "You've seen it anywhere around?"

Alana sat down by the table, giving him an empathetic look.

"It can't be that bad," she said. "Can it?"

He grimaced closing his eyes, feeling memories return threatening to drown him.

_*Steffan led him onto the dance floor, his eyes never once leaving the ones of the other man – even if he'd wanted to it wouldn't have been possible. Those eyes…_

_"Beautiful eyes…," he murmured as they moved to the music, lost in the hazel orbs half-hidden under their lids. "Beautiful eyes."_

_"What do you_ want_, Steffan?" Anton asked, the sharp tone in the voice shaking Steffan out of reverie._

_"Why…_ nothing_," came the reply, along with the most innocent look Steffan could muster._

_"I don't believe you." Suddenly the dark eyes were guarded. "There'll always be requirements… conditions."_

_"But I've learnt… I've changed," Steffan tried to protest, but it didn't take much to see that Anton was far from convinced._

_"Have you?" The tone in his voice confirmed that Anton didn't put much faith in Steffan's claim. "If I said, 'let me go', _could _you?"_

_Steffan stared at him, not quite following, he couldn't understand_ why _Anton would ask him that._

"… … .. No! _I… I-"_

_He struggled to find ever elusive words._

_Anton pushed him away slightly, his eyes not quite meeting Steffan's._

_"-Then we're right back where we started…," he sighed. "Here in this room… With you trying to force my neck into your yoke."_

_With me trying to force your… into my..., Steffan thought stunned. What the hell?_

_"It chokes… It _stifles!"

_For a moment all Steffan did, all he could do, was to stand there transfixed by what he had just got thrown at him. His eyes went narrow and the beautiful face turned into a mask of anger. How_ dared _he talk to him like that?_

_"I don't_ want _it!"_

That's it!

_In the next instant Steffan's fist flew up to forcefully hit him in the face, a part of him enjoying the cracking sound that followed. The music immediately stopped playing and everybody's attention was focused on the couple._

_That should teach him not to screw with Steffan Kabala, he thought in furious triumph._

_But that satisfied feeling the punch had given faded as the bruise on Anton's cheek did. The dark-haired man turned back to smirk at Steffan…*_

"It could be better," Steffan said. He picked up the glass and downed what was left in it with the intentions that it would help him forget, but it was as unsuccessful as before. He could still feel it lurking on the very edge of his consciousness, where he couldn't reach it nor could he push it further away.

Even though the memory had stopped playing in his head for now, there was still this one scene that seemed to have been burnt into his mind, stubbornly refusing to fade back when all the other had. No matter how hard he tried to evade it, that obnoxious smirk just wouldn't leave him. At that agitating mental visage his hand tightened around the glass still in his hand and if he hadn't been too preoccupied Steffan would have noticed now close to the breaking point it was.

When the one memory made him lose control another one choose to make appearance, not making it better.

_Beautiful eyes, if I've got you this upset – who has the power _now?"

Fuck!

He'd just barely been able to restrain himself, and instead of bursting out startling them seated nearest to him in the room he let the word resonate in his mind, and he was almost able to taste the bitterness this new revelation filled him with. That with that smirk, that infuriating smirk, Anton had taken Steffan's words and used them against him.

Coming to senses he noticed that Alana was staring at him, from the tightly grasped glass to the thin lipped expression on his face, not sure what to say or do.

"Do-do you want to talk about it?" she asked cautiously.

"No," he replied. "Not now." He still had a little faith in his plan to drink himself into blissful oblivion. "Why don't we talk about what's bothering you instead?"

"I… I…" Alana hadn't seen that coming, and taken aback she tried to find the words. "What make you think that there would be something troubling me?"

He gazed at her, eyebrows raised, an almost amused look on his face.

"You all but ran in your eager to get away."

"Well," she said after a brief silence. "There is some difference in opinion between me and my sister. I didn't want to start another argument."

"What about?" Steffan wondered.

"We're unable to come to an agreement on how enjoyable eternal life really would be."

"And you're speaking against it," he guessed. "That's the impression I got from your sister last night." That and he also thought that he could remember seeing her in one of the chambers.

"Yes," Alana sighed. "Always when I suggest that it would not be that happy-go-lucky blissfulness she imagines it to be, Sofi gets really upset. She doesn't want to hear a bad word about it.

She watched as Steffan reached for the bottle to refill his glass and shook her head.

"Your problems won't go away because you drink yourself senseless," she said.

Steffan shrugged.

"Have you tried?"

"Yes, I have." Alana reached out and plucked the bottle from his hand, unaffected by the protests that followed. "It failed." He fell silent watching as she put the bottle down well out of his reach.

He didn't really understand how he could be as comfortable as he was with that girl he'd by chance run into in the middle of the night. But there was something about her, maybe it was that she'd seemed to be sad too, that it was what had made him open up to her telling her things that he hadn't talked to anybody else about. It had slipped out of him leaving him stunned, though not as stunned as when she'd listened to him letting him speak uninterrupted. Even reassuring him that he was not to be blamed for what had happened. Nobody else had, not even Bunchh, she preferred not to speak about it at all.

But why, he thought, why had she been so ready to listen? Alana didn't know him, but still she'd stuck around to listen to the confessions of his tormented mind. Had it been because she cared? As much as he wanted to believe it, he was skeptical as with much lately.

In the past, before Penumbra, it had always been easy for Steffan to get close to people, but his experience here on the island had changed him and he now doubted whether to trust the people around him.

He recalled that he had, when he was younger, gone out in search for friends, but then he learnt the rules of the game; that nothing and no one was like it seemed as all was hidden behind masks of falseness. He had adapted to his surroundings while at the same time making sure that he remained himself under the surface. With them it had been uncomplicated, you could always predict, always _trust_, what their actions or their reactions to something would be, but then he'd arrived at Penumbra and nothing would ever be the same again.

Alana appeared to be different from them though, Steffan noted watching her. The only thing she seemed to be hiding was the sorrow that he had seen at their first meeting, now it was concealed behind a contemplative calm that went very well with her. But he saw none of the falseness that was just all too clear in others.

She was friendly, that's the impression he'd gotten this far, but was that who she really was or did she have an angle for befriending him? Maybe she –

NO!

You can't think like that, Steffan berated himself. That's how Anton would reason, that everybody got a hidden agenda, but you're not like that.

He met the woman's eyes, still a little on his guard but deciding that he would – as she hadn't given him any reason not to – trust her, and returned the smile she aimed at him.


	3. The Hope

**03: The Hope**

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><p>Days after the plague had been released, the city of Sivarsi Nine had sunk into an unnatural silence. All the panic, all the terror filled screams, when people finally realized what was happening had died out with the last living beings, the only thing giving away that they had ever existed was the red gooey mass their bodies had disintegrated into. The ground on which they'd been walking and on the lower portions of the buildings against which they'd leant as agony tore through them where all stained by the aftermath of the red death.<p>

But not humans alone was targeted by the uncontrollable death, any animal that would come in contact with it would perish as well; would it be a pet curious about what was going on with its human owner or a wild animal like a bird or a stray cat that approached the puddles on the ground.

All over the city auto-ops had broken down when their work-load had grown from the occasional littering of uncaring people or a dog taking a crap on the walkway to suddenly expand to an infinite waste to be cleaned up. It had proved to be a challenge too great for the auto-ops, and one by one they had crashed into the ground or into buildings as their circuits fried, to be scattered all around.

Though, to say that Sivarsi Nine was all doomed and deserted was wrong, even if at first glance you'd think so. There among death and decay a lone figure was wandering.

He, a young man at nineteen years old, had been at work when he'd noticed that something was wrong. Going on a break he'd seen those red stains on the floor that looked remarkably much like blood, and he'd followed them alongside the row of cubicles, till it led into the one at the row's very end.

At first glance it was empty, and it appeared that its occupant had left, hadn't it been for the muffled pained sound coming from the corner on his left which he couldn't see from where he was standing just outside looking in.

He stepped forward, but halted when he saw a blood red pool, ever expanding, emerged from the corner, where the sound had originated, to the spot where he was about to put his foot down. He peeked around the wall and his eyes went wide at the sight he was met by.

On the floor, leaning heavily against the wall, and in obvious pain was a man. The man's face, arms and hands, all the skin visible was covered in fine lines, as if the skin had gone too small to contain the body and had burst, and blood was trickling from all over. The man gave another pain filled cry as the tears in his skin grew wider, and he lifted his face which till then had been turned down to the ground and their eyes met, revealing that blood was spilling from the eyes, nose and mouth as well.

"P-please he-help me…" the man stuttered, the voice strained at the verge of breaking. "Pl-please… Hel-hel-"

The man was cut short as his body tore completely and broke down into a thick mass that spread over the floor, pooling around the young man's shoes as it slowly gained ground.

Stunned, he stared incredulous at the happening, not knowing what it was about or what he could possibly have done to help the other man.

Nicola, or Nico as he more often was called, would come to witness more mysterious deaths like that one as the day went on, as minutes became hours more and more of the people around him met the same fate as the man in the cubicle. At that point he hadn't known what was going on, not till later when he looked through whatever news archives he could find, thinking that if there was some kind of virus spreading it would most likely be mentioned, starting with the most recent broadcasts. He didn't find must of interest there, till he came by a broadcast that in mid-sequence had been cut off and the well-known to everybody face of Anton Prosper had shown up on the screen.

_"Citizens of Sivarsi Nine, this is Anton prosper speaking. I've interrupted the normal broadcast to warn you about the so called 'perma-youth project'. I shall do so only_ once.

_I, Anton Prosper the forth, am the sole inventor of the attomon formula. This formula was _stolen _and now – in the name of greed – the Trankule Corporation is marketing a criminally mismanaged version of it to anybody willing to pay the price. The commercial announcements you've heard, promising eternal youth and health, are visible and verbal _lies _generated to exploit the gullible. Know that you buy into them at the cost of your very lives._

_Attomons are infinitely smaller than state-of-the-art nanos. Their programming is far too delicate for the government mainframe to oversee. Malfunction is, therefore, inevitable. Within hours - no more than days- a bio-technical plague will spread, like a _red death_, through the bodies of any and all taken in by the perma-youth project. Anyone coming in contact with affected tissues and fluids will also die._

_Due to Trankule's incompetence, the corrupt attomons will replicate ceaselessly. He has no means to deactivate or destroy them. To receive them is to guarantee hideous, agonizing _death_! There will be excruciating pain, bleeding from every orifice, then dissolution. Your mall paths will run _red _with gore._

_The plague will rampage on, uncontained and uncontainable – long after every inhabitant of Sivarsi Nine has disintegrated into a viscous mass!"_

Nico had been staring at the screen blankly for a long while after the broadcast had ended and the original one had continued. It had been a warning, he thought, one that had obviously gone unheeded and now one and all was to pay for the ignorance. What he'd seen, it had to be what Prosper had been talking about, it had happened as he said.

_Anyone coming in contact with affected tissues or fluids will also die._

A cold feeling spreading through him he'd slowly turned to stare down at his shoes, which had merely an hour earlier bathed in the liquidized remains of the man, soaking his feet. Was that to mean… that he'd been infected as well?

Hearing a thudding sound of something, or someone most likely, falling to the ground somewhere around, he swallowed the panic that had risen in him and urged himself to be calm. Running around like a headless chicken wouldn't help much.

Having accomplished calm, his thoughts left his own state of health but to instead wander in the direction of his family, were they okay or had the plague reached them too? At that the panic arose again and this time he wouldn't be able to hold it down. He raced the straightest way to his family's home, hoping for the best yet fearing for the worst.

As he arrived it had been all very quiet and no one had come to open for him as he rang the door bell so he let himself in, he had moved a couple of months earlier to live with Alana but he still had the access code to the door in memory. Inside there was no sight, nor sound, of his parents or of his sister. He moved from room to room, searching and hoping that the silence was because they were out and not because they'd turned into a tormented tomato soup.

Passing through the door to the dining-room he froze, unwilling to believe what he saw. There on the chairs and on the floor around the table were three red puddles. With sinking heart Nico approached the nearest of them and crouched down by it, doing all but poke around in it with his hands to get a good look at what it was that was swimming in the puddle.

Taking a fork that had been dropped on the floor he dug about to fish up the object. It was a bracelet, looking exactly like the one his sister's boyfriend had given her the year before for her sixteenth birthday. His hands began to shake uncontrollable and the bracelet slipped off the fork to land in the puddle again.

At seeing the family's remains the full impact of the situation hit him, the plague that Prosper had been talking about was real and it was in its own pace eating the world.

That was days ago, but Nico was, under the circumstances, feeling well, although he on more than one occasion had had come in contact with the blood and whatever else. He didn't understand but was far beyond caring about why anymore, now he just wanted to find others, _then_ he could proceed to figure out _why _he hadn't been infected.

Glancing about in the setting darkness, he came still when seeing that in the windows of the second floor of a building light was spilling out. Taking his eyes of the windows he approached the building, a building like any other a sterile steel giant – the construction meant to in its size and shape to impress on the observer.

He entered through the door, which after some delay had had given way to grant him entrance, and was surprised when he was actually shocked to feel like he'd hit a wall at entering being met by the foul smell of the decay.

A cleanup had been initiated, but before it was completely done it had been abandoned, leaving faint red stains all around. Scanning the lobby, finding it empty, his attention went to the stairs leading up to the second floor. He crossed the lobby and climbed the stairs, feeling his feet sink into the thin, but soaked, carpet.

Having reached the top of the stairs he stepped into a hallway, which was significantly cleaner than anywhere else he'd been, as if he'd instead of climbed the stairs had entered another building in a place where the plague hadn't happened.

While the lobby had been lit alone by the dim light coming in through the big windows, the floor above bathed in light, painfully bright to his eyes.

He edged forward, hearing his every step softly echoing between the walls of the corridor. He opened doors and peeked inside but with no satisfying result, he could find no living being although the obvious efforts to make that part of the place habitable for humans spoke for it.

The corridor ended in another door, different in appearance from the other four that was flanking the corridor with two on each side. While the others were the plain kind you would find everywhere with that keypad you'd use to open it mounted next to it on the wall, this door went a little more advanced than that with all kinds of locks, alarms and other security features. Obviously there was someone who was very keen about keeping people out of there.

Nico was about to walk up to the door, when he felt a sudden sting to his neck, like an insect bite. He raised his hand to brush it away, but halfway there the hand fell back down to his side too heavy to move, and his mind went cloudy. He tried to turn around, at the very least look over his shoulder, to see who was behind him, but his body wouldn't obey him.

Feeling nothing and with the corridor fading away, he tumbled to the ground lifelessly, while a figure leaning on a cane limped over to the door, pressing keys and in other ways giving commands to unlock it. Then he turned back to the young man passed out on the floor, a grimace, the closest his twisted features would come to resemble a smile, creeping onto his face.

His plan had worked.


	4. Lover's Meeting

**04: Lover's Meeting**

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><p><em>I need to have my chains removed and hide here<br>While the spotlight's seeking me  
>Forget the world for now, my Love<br>And live these days with me  
>As if the world wasn't ending<em>

-Sonata Arctica-

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><p><em>*The third night of the masque proceeded like the two nights past, the initiates got injected with the attomons and as the minuscule nanos were assimilated into their systems, they would surrender to the euphoria that was brought on.<em>

_But not everybody was swept away by the mindless ecstasy. Clad in blue, like the Chamber and its initiates, Steffan Kabala stood glancing about wondering how he belonged there, while knowing how he wanted to belong. In a corner of his heart he wanted to belong by his lover's side._

Oh, Anton, _he thought as his eyes caught the familiar frame of the man he'd been so madly in love with for as long as he could remember. _We could have been so happy, but it just wasn't ever enough for you, was it?

_"Steffan, darling," a female voice on his left called for his attention. He did not turn around nor did he turn his head, he merely shifted his gaze to look at her from the corner of his eye. "Please, be patient. Anton may not show it, but he's hurt. He needs time, that's all."_

_Steffan turned to stare at the blue-skinned woman, saying nothing but his lips stretching out to a thin dry smile._

He needs time, huh? _Steffan_ was _in love with Anton, but that love had been tainted with bitterness – a bitterness born out of jealousy. _Why, that makes up for everything he's put me through, the way he makes me feel.

Tell me this, oh please tell me, why you when he hurt me brush it aside simply stating that he does what he does and that's the way it is, not aware or not caring about how stupid the words sound. But as soon as Anton _may_, as you said he doesn't show, be hurt you immediately come to defend him.

_He frowned as the meaning of it got just all too clear. It meant that no matter who got hurt, Bunchh would always side with her precious 'Prince'._

_Furious, but not wanting to risk a outburst – like the one down on the beach – that sure would strip him of the little dignity of his that still remained, he turned away from her._

_He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply to calm himself, and when he opened them again he was startled to see someone standing in front of him. The person, a young male about a head shorted than Steffan, was playfully fondling one of the feathers that were part of Steffan's costume. At the unexpected sight Steffan had taken a step back, and the feather had come loose from the rest of the costume to remain in the other's hand. The stranger looked between the feather and Steffan before he silently offered it back to him._

"_You may keep it," Steffan said hiding his confusion while regaining his composure, and he was surprised to see the smile of delight he was given in return._

_"My name is Lucian," the stranger said, creeping closer. "Come play with me."_

_Steffan gazed down at the handsome face, into the eyes that bore the dark blue color that was the match to the one of the feather which at the moment was caressing Lucian's jaw._

_"I can't," Steffan said, though feeling while he spoke that the words weren't completely truthful._

_"Are you saying that you can't because it is so," Lucian said his voice slightly lowered, challenging the hint of uncertainty he'd picked up in Steffan's reply, his expression dimming a bit. "Or is it because you don't want to?"_

_Green eyes stared into blue, locked in that manner, while Steffan tried to come up with an answer. As by itself his face turned toward Anton, standing across the Chamber in the company of Daryel._

_Once he wouldn't have had to think about it, he would have known that the answer would be that he couldn't because all he wanted, and would ever want, was Anton. But since then the man had hurt him badly and with such nonchalance that Steffan wasn't sure anymore if that was the answer._

_"Steffan."_

_He turned back to Lucian, a disturbing feeling of indecision that was only matched, in making him uncomfortable, by another more subtle feeling lurking in him that was still too far away to be defined._

_"Instead of listen to what your mind tells you, listen to your heart."_

My heart… My heart wants love and happiness, _Steffan thought. _Which I will never have with Anton… Unless…

_No, that wouldn't happen. Anton would change and become the man Steffan wished he would be, just as much as Steffan could give up all feelings and be as emotionally detached as Anton to please him._

_He sighed._

_"What I want doesn't matter," Steffan said glancing at Anton again._

_Lucian followed his gaze and shook his head._

_"Of course it does," he said. He brought his hands up to Steffan's face and turned it back so that they were eye-to-eye. "So, _what do you want?"

_After being denied it for so long and then having someone posing the question, suddenly the answer wasn't so hard anymore._

_"Right now?..." Steffan said, staring back down at him._

_Throwing all doubts and troubling thoughts aside he leant in and captured Lucian's lips with his own, before the startled eyes of Bunchh who obviously thought that Steffan despite the temptation would turn the admirer down. It wasn't what his heart would have responded to, but he didn't listen to his heart. He'd done that and it had broken and wouldn't have a voice till it was whole again, so the part of him Steffan would heed now was his body and its needs._

"Steffan!_" her voice just barely cut through the oblivious mist that was filling his mind. He ignored her, hands moving to caress a bare back. Then suddenly he felt another set of hands, that didn't belong to either him or Lucian, pushing them apart._

_"Steffan, think this through," Bunchh said, giving him a pleading look._

_"No, don't think," was whispered in his ear. "Don't think at all."_

_Next soft kisses was pressed against the skin of his neck, which in their distracting nature made him unaware of the third party that had come over to join them._

_Anton watched the couple, his lover - he still thought of Steffan as such – affectionately holding another man who was shamelessly lavishing him with kisses. He cleared his throat, and while Lucian looked up from what he was doing Steffan barely turned his head._

_"Steffan," he said. "May I have a word with you?"_

_"Later," came the silent reply. Steffan looked about the Chamber and then his eyes landed on Anton who was giving him a look that betrayed, although the rest of the face was a mask of indifference, the anger that was forming within him at the rejection. His attention went back to the admirer. "Awfully crowded here," he said, his lips almost brushing against the other's soft ones. "Let's go somewhere else."_

_Lucian didn't object. He eagerly followed as Steffan, without a second glance at the other three, turned and walked toward the Chambers entrance._

_Eyes narrowing, Anton looked after them. He knew that it was hypocrisy, a trait that he had always despised in others, but he didn't like seeing his, _HIS, _lover with someone else. Even if it's only for a night._

_As they entered the atrium, an indoors garden illuminated by the stars shining in through a ceiling and an entire wall of glass, it was quiet but for the soft murmur of a fountain somewhere out of sight._

_Steffan smiled, watching the other stride ahead of him through thick green, in the light of the stars silver, grass. He looked after the young man soon out of sight, disappearing among the lush vegetation of trees and bushes, and he frowned as thoughts broke through the haze in his mind._

_Two wrongs didn't make a right. Would this be a second wrong for him, the first being having stolen the formula, which he would later regret? But, he thought, this most likely would not end up in a disaster that had struck the world like the corrupt attomons. The plague and this, more or less, random meeting was not comparable, he decided as he walked slowly feeling the soft grass under his bare feet._

_Steffan looked about as he went, searching, to find his companion standing by one of the various columns on which pots was placed all about the atrium and from which multi-colored flowers were cascading. Standing by the column, Lucian was tenderly stroking the petals of a big purple flower his head slightly tilted and an absentminded look on his face._

_From the crown of his head light brown hair fell down to grace the pale skin of the shoulders, and overall Steffan thought that the body looked frail, but he had enough experience to know that just because someone looked fragile it wasn't necessarily the truth. In most cases those persons were much stronger and durable than they looked._

_Lucian slid his finger over the smooth petal of the purple flower, seemingly engrossed in what he was doing – though his attention was elsewhere._

_In truth, and as had been told, his senses had heightened after he'd been injected with the attomons. Now he could practically sense the other man's approach and in his mind Lucian could feel his touch. He closed his eyes imagining exploring hands roaming his body – caressing his skin as they went – and a shudder of warm pleasure went through him._

_His eyes opened slightly when being pulled out of reverie by sensation. The tentative touch on his shoulder blade was not the make of his imagination, it was real. The teasing touch moved down his spine to the small of his back, and his back arched slightly at the touch to a moment later lean into the warmth of another body as the hand found its way around him to rest on his belly._

_Smiling affectionately Lucian turned his head to find the handsome face of the male behind him, pale green eyes staring into his. A hand, his own he noted in passing, rose to cup a golden cheek. Obeying the light urging of the hand, Steffan leant down on the other and caught willing lips with his own.*_

The sound of voices pulled him out of the memory, there where he was sitting by the pond staring up at the face of the statue displaying a perfect replica of his, for two nights, lover.

He looked across the pond, listening intently. There was a female voice which he did not recognize, and seconds after it had faltered and been replaced by silence another voice spoke up, this time a very familiar one.

An unexplainable sense of urgency gripped him and he got to his feet in a heartbeat, looking around for a place to hide but found none.

The two persons showed up in the opening cutting the white wall in two and the conversation stopped abruptly as Steffan fell dead silent at seeing Lucian standing on the other side of the pond facing the statue. He saw light pink spreading across Lucian's cheeks.

Feeling awkward Lucian turned away. Twice, two nights in a row, he had sought Steffan's attention and succeeded, but both these times he'd been influenced by the attomons. Would Steffan see that or did he think that that's what he was like? And miss the love Lucian held for him.

He slowly rounded the pond to walk by it and then to leave it behind, all while keeping his gaze ahead of him. Feeling a hand softly seizing his wrist, he stopped and turned to stare into Steffan's eyes, feeling his heart beat faster.

_*Lucian gasped as the hardness was pushed inside him, pain mingling with pleasure erupting in him as it filled him more and more. Having him on his back in the grass, his beautiful lover thrust into him and withdrew in an increasingly steady rhythm._

_Behind his closed eyes, his senses was made up by on one hand the background sound of the falling water in the fountain just a few meters away and on the other by the surge of sensations claiming his body and mind and had him moaning for more._

_His back arched and eyes that had been shut opened, staring up at a darkening sky where stars were shining brightly. The eyes then moved to behold the lover, the blonde – the center of his awareness – turned his gaze to look back down into his eyes and in their depths exhibiting what Lucian was feeling as well…*_

Lucian blinked, a low groan rising in his throat, and he wondered if Steffan could see in his eyes the images that had crossed his mind as their eyes met. He wanted to say something, but his mind had gone empty and he suddenly seemed unable to form words.

Steffan glanced toward his female friend and then back to Lucian.

"I need to talk to you," he said. "Later."

Still unable to speak Lucian nodded and the hand's soft grasp around his wrist loosen and his arm fell limply to his side.

Steffan held his gaze for a little while longer, after which he went to join the female Islander who was standing a bit away, giving them some privacy, staring up at the starry sky.

One last glace toward the departing blonde, and then Lucian left in the opposite direction.

_*Stirring, he opened his eyes blinking, to behold smooth golden skin that rose and fell as his lover breathed. He became aware of a smile that had crept onto his lips, showing all the blissful joy within him._

_But the bliss abruptly changed into anxiety as his mind caught up with him, and he started to remember. Foremost of those memories was the look on Prosper's face as Steffan, Prosper's lover, had walked away with Lucian; he hadn't looked happy about it. Lucian hadn't given it much thought then, but now all he could think of was whether this would have consequences._

_He couldn't make it undone – he didn't _want to _make it undone – but he could leave before it got any further. Removing, though reluctantly, the arm that was wound around him, Lucian silently rose and looked around to find his abandoned trousers, they were lying by the tumbled over column nearby the costume Steffan had been wearing._

_Lucian put the trousers back on, after which he collected the blue robe and returned to drape it over the sleeping beauty. Giving the still form, the rising sun illuminating the body with its soft glow, a last longing look he leant down to press a light kiss against soft, although in sleep, responsive lips._

_Turning from the sleeping lover, he made to leave but remained still as his eyes caught a lone blue black feather lying in the grass silently calling for his attention. He stepped over to it and picked it up, tenderly stroking his fingers down its smooth length.*_

He'd left, but it was far from over there, Lucian would come back for more. He would pursuit Steffan's attention again, driven both by the attomons and his own feelings, and once more he would have his wish granted.

* * *

><p><em>Masks removed we hide here<br>While the spotlight's seeking me  
>Forget the world for now, my Love<br>And live these days with me  
>As if the world wasn't ending<em>

-Sonata Arctica-


	5. 4b Lucian VS Anton

**Interlude 1: Anton VS Lucian**

A not all too serious bit about what happened the morning after the night in the Blue Chamber…

* * *

><p><strong>Morning, after the Blue Chamber Eve<strong>

Breakfast, the most important meal of the day. But maybe you could skip it just one day…

That was what went through Lucian's mind when he stood by the table, staring into the chilly stare of Anton Prosper, evidently he'd been right about Prosper not liking him sneaking away with Steffan.

Slowly he diverted his eyes and put the bowl and cup of tea down in front of him on the table, and this being the only unoccupied table Anton was forced to do so as well.

Lucian glanced at him, feeling all but comfortable, which increased as he saw the glare Prosper was still aiming his way.

They'd been at a more intimate distance, but that day down at the beach seemed remote as if ages ago, and it was likely that Anton would never look at him like he had then. Because Lucian had fallen in love with his lover.

"So, you've slept well?" Lucian said to break the uncomfortable silence.

Anton, who'd raised the cup to his lips, stopped himself as he was about to drink and stared at Lucian again, narrow-eyed.

_Uh-oh,_ Lucian thought. _Not so smart..._

"I slept just fine," Anton said a full minute later, a razor sharp edge to his voice.

"Me too."

Lucian cringed inwardly as he heard himself speak the words, they had passed over his lips before he'd been able to stop them. Any other time and the two small words would have been completely innocent, but this time wasn't one of those and they'd had impact on Prosper. Avoiding his gaze Lucian shoved a spoonful of cereals into his mouth.

"Good morning."

Both men turned to look at the third that had joined them. Lucian stared, eyes wide open and glazed over, at him the spoon forgotten still in his mouth, while Anton gave a look that clearly said he hadn't forgiven Steffan his little excursion earlier the last night and then he looked away, sporting his best blank-faced expression. Lucian mumbled something made incoherent by the spoon and followed Steffan with his gaze as he took a seat.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," Steffan said smiling. "By the way, you're drooling." With a more suggestive smile he added: "But I guess that's what it might do to you, having a foreign object in your mouth."

Stunned, Lucian's jaw dropped and the spoon fell out of his mouth and the loose grip of his hand to land clattering in the bowl. Blushing, he quickly wiped his mouth. Anton put his cup down a little harder than intended, momentary slipping out of expressionless to reveal he'd been unpleasantly surprised.

Although hiding it, Steffan could feel the tension just as well as the other two. He looked between them, on his left Anton; who seemed to be refusing to either look or talk to him, though it didn't seemed beneath him to cast an icy glare in Lucian's direction. Looking at Lucian, Steffan thought that he seemed different from that night; he certainly was more aware of Anton's presence, and, although Steffan could tell from the looks the other gave him that Lucian liked him, he wasn't as eager to show it as earlier. Possible because Anton was there and able to follow his every move.

* * *

><p>Finally ready to leave the table and the awkwardness around it, Lucian rose and, after a quick look Steffan's way and getting a glance in return, did all but run away. Though he didn't felt good about leaving Steffan and Prosper alone.<p>

Having exit he slowed down and was soon made aware of a pair of feet following him. A smile crept onto his lips, hearing the steps gain on him till finally they were right behind him and a hand on his shoulder turned him around. But the smile faded as he saw that it wasn't who he thought it had been.

"I think you and I need to have a talk," Anton said, his voice low and cold, his hand tightly gripping the shoulder. Lucian stared back into his eyes, sure of what Prosper wanted to talk about.


	6. Don't Tell Me in Pain 'The End Doesn't

**05: Don't Tell Me in Pain; 'The End Doesn't Justify the Means'**

* * *

><p>He pushed the doors to the great bathing hall open. Although it was late, hours past midnight, Lucian had heeded as Chief Attendant Wharder had relayed the message saying that Steffan wanted to meet with him there. Yes, he did remember what he'd been told, but also what he'd promised Steffan, and to Lucian the latter was what mattered – no matter the consequences.<p>

Around the walls numerous candles were sitting in holders, flickering flames casting golden glow over the hall and making shadows dance. The water, liquid gold in the candle light, was still and at first glance empty, till he saw the man leaning against one of the walls of the pool gazing contemplatingly over the water.

Lucian smiled and eased the robe off his shoulders and it fell to the floor revealing his naked form. He stepped into the water, a low pleased moan escaping him as warm water engulfed his body.

Leisurely he began to swim across the pool, but he'd barely gotten halfway when he felt a pair of hands catching him. Strong arms wound around him and soon he found himself gazing upon the face of the most beautiful being he'd ever laid his eyes on.

"You wanted to see me?" Lucian said with a breathlessness that surprised him.

"Yes," Steffan said. "I… There's been something bothering me for the last few days." Lucian gave him a curious glance. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

His hand ceasing to play with the long stand of silver blonde hair, Lucian looked up at him not sure what to say.

"I… Because when I woke up I saw things clearer," he began hesitantly. "And I was afraid that so would you. And also because of Pro…"

"How do you mean, that so would I?" Steffan cut him off mid-sentence, frowning. "I saw clearly all along."

"But… the attomons… their influence…"

Steffan gave a soft laugh that echoed between the walls of the hall.

"I've come to tame that," he replied. "I can draw upon it would I feel like it…" He gave Lucian a suggestive smile. "… Thought it hasn't been necessary to do so to make things more… interesting. Had it in me already."

Lucian's eyes had widened and he stared at Steffan, till he noticed that he was staring and looked away feeling his cheeks grow hot. Steffan smiled fondly watching him.

"And the other reason?" Steffan asked, remembering that Lucian had started on a second argument, his left hand thumb tenderly caressing the small of his back.

Lucian hesitated watching the other awkwardly, the blush fading from his cheeks. Yes, the other reason.

"Prosper." When Steffan raised an eyebrow, the smile faltering, he quickly added: "He thinks that you belong to him, and he told me to stay away."

"And you did," There was a disappointed note in Steffan's voice.

"It wasn't easy," Lucian said quickly.

"He does not own me," Steffan said dryly. "And he's arrogant to think so." He relaxed his jaw which he till then hadn't noticed to have tensed. "I gave him chance upon chance but he never took it seriously, and the other night was my last try. I told you, I can only take so much of those games of his. But I won't be playing along anymore."

"You've given up on him," Lucian said, anticipation in his voice. "He's out of the picture now."

"Yes."

One single, simple, word but enough for Lucian to be unable to contain the smile that made its way onto his lips as had his deepest desire been him granted. He moved closer, winding his arms around Steffan's neck, while looking into warm smiling eyes.

Apart from the sound of the water as the bodies moved through it, there was absolute silence - a silence broken only by a faint sound coming from behind one of the ornate pillars by the hall's door as two pair of lips closed on each other.

This one was different from their other rendez-vous, this time Lucian wasn't sunken into the embrace of attomons induced euphoria. Tonight he was in control of himself as his hands moved through silky cascades of hair and his body pressed against his lover's. Tonight any feeling was his own.

* * *

><p>He wasn't jealous. HE wasn't JEALOUS. He was NOT jealous.<p>

He could tell it to himself all he wanted, but there would still be a part of him that would, for every time he said it, retort: 'so why are you lurking, spying, in your own house?' And as always he would have no answer and instead he would try to ignore it.

Anton hadn't moved from the spot behind the pillar, silently observing the two men. His original thought with hiding there had been to watch Steffan, to see his reaction on the event that had transpired the night before this, in the Gold Chamber, though he hadn't known that Steffan was expecting company. And as for the reaction, it had left Anton disappointed. Steffan hadn't seemed upset or sad, as in the Chamber, well, yes, at first he had, but soon he'd seemed… relieved.

He sank deeper into the shadows as the two made their way out of the pool, water dripping of their bodies. They donned their robes and left, and all the while Anton had no greater wish than to run out of hiding and cut in between them, to divert Steffan's attention from the other man. But he didn't, he watched them quietly meanwhile dark feelings grew strong within him.

When they left, he gave them a little head start before he followed. Like a shadow, silent and unseen, half unconscious about the plan that was forming in his mind.

As they wandered through a broad hallway in the still of the night they came to the point where they would have to part, and Lucian turned his dark blue eyes at Steffan giving him a forlorn look clearly not wanting the night to end yet.

"Oh, don't give me that look," Anton heard his former lover say gazing upon the brunette. "It makes me feel like I'm abandoning you."

"Let's stay up a little longer," Lucian said.

"No," Steffan replied smiling, reading the tiredness in the other's voice and in his face. "Not tonight. You need to sleep, and so do I."

Anton watched as Lucian reluctantly accepted heading to bed for the night and find time together at a more timely hour the following day. After sharing a tender, lingering kiss they went their separate ways – each to his bedroom.

When both men had passed out of sight and hearing he silently followed down the corridor Lucian had gone down. Knowing by heart every centimeter of the mansion Anton had no problem at all to follow the other while remaining unseen.

He watched as the door slid shut behind Lucian and then he stepped out of the shadows to approach the very door. Instead of bypass the lock mechanism, as he had in mind to do, he reached for the panel on the door's side and inside the room a melodic sound was heard.

A moment passed and then the door slid open, and looking out at him was Lucian. At first he was smiling but when he saw Anton the smile faded. It was obvious that he'd hoped it had been Steffan who'd changed his mind about sleeping.

"Mr. Prosper," he said quietly, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Isn't it a bit late to be up wandering?"

"Indeed," Anton replied, pushing passed Lucian into the room. At entering, he looked around casually while moving further into the room till he turned to its occupant. "Do you remember the talk we had?"

"Um… Yes?"

The uncertainty in the brunette's voice grew more defined.

"Then you remember that we talked extendedly about you and Steffan and whatever you think there is between you two?"

That _they _had talked was a bit of a stretch, as it had been Anton simply – without in any way trying to hide his intentions (if he'd ever thought of that, that time was far past) – told him what he thought of the relationship that Lucian may or may not have had with Steffan.

"I promised that I would meet him," Lucian said. "He wanted to talk. I couldn't break that promise."

"Really?" Anton's voice had gone low and icy and Lucian took an involuntary step back. "And now what? You'll be able to show some restraint now when you've talked to him, or are you even closer to him?"

He glanced about the room and his eye fell on a small round table on which a single object was on display; on the polished wooden surface a blue-black striped feather was resting. Anton felt his teeth clench as he worked to suppress anger.

He WAS jealous. But he was far beyond realizing or admitting, or even care, about it right now. Steffan had been his from the start, before Anton had even known about it Steffan had been his for the taking, so what made this little brat think he could just take Steffan away from him? At the thought anger flared within him, and showed in his face by the setting of his jaw and the mad fury in his eyes.

"Um…"

He watched as Lucian struggled to find the words all while staring into the blazing eyes that held his and walking backwards towards the door. He had no excuse, Anton thought.

"I guess that it might be hard to show restraint when you're as young as yourself," Anton said, the chill in his voice mixed with anger.

"I'm not much younger than you."

His voice had been defiant and he had said it without thinking, and he'd known in the moment he said it – seeing the fury in Anton's eyes, if possible, grow more intense - that it was a mistake.

"Hmm, you're right," Anton said with deceptively calm voice. "Then to hell with restraint, right?"

He rushed at Lucian and saw him turn to make for the door.

* * *

><p>He loosened the restraints that had embraced the pale, slim wrists – observing with a note of approval the bands of dark purple that marred the soft skin. A small pain filled sound passed over lips, cut and bloody from where teeth had dug in attempts to stifle cries of pain, but after that he was silent his eyes downcast.<p>

Adjusting his cloths, the Prince approached the door. He looked back at the still figure, a cold humorless smile barely curving his lips. _Pathetic,_ he thought, _what could he possibly see in you?_

He opened the door and left silently. For a moment there was no sound at all, followed by a faint movement from the figure left behind and then a gasping sound as he tried to rise to his elbows. But as soon as he'd done so he fell back to lie still, sorrowful sobs escaping him. His eyes traveled to the small round table and he gazed at the long slender form resting on it. He thought of Steffan, and the thought gave him some comfort, thinking that no matter what was done to him as long as he had Steffan's love he could get through anything. No matter what.


	7. Lab Rats

**06: Lab Rats**

He didn't feel any pain, but noticed that, to start with, his eyelids seemed impossible heavy. And he couldn't move. That was strange, and disturbing – much because he couldn't seem to remember why he was lying there, he'd come to the conclusion that he was indeed lying on his back, or how he'd been rendered into his current state.

With great effort he pried his eyes open, to stare up into the ceiling. It was the ceiling of any office he'd ever seen. So, he was still at work?

He made to raise himself to his elbow, but found that – while he could raise his head and a bit of his torso somewhat – the arms were stuck. Slowly, his head feeling sluggish, he looked down and saw restraints around the wrists.

For the first time he really looked around, realizing that he was _not_in the office where he worked. He couldn't remember ever being in this place before. It was an office, he thought, or yes, it could have been, but it had been decorated more as… a laboratory?

He couldn't seem to understand what he was doing there, or why he was strapped down. Hearing a door open, he turned his head as much as he could but couldn't see far, not till the person came a bit into the room. Before that all he could make out of the newly arrived was the steady thump as something (a cane?) hit the floor, accompanied by a sound of a person dragging his feet across the floor instead of liftig them as he went.

When he came within sight Nico saw that it was a, presumably middle-aged, man who's face had somehow gotten severely distorted. His back was crooked, and the reason for the cane on which he was leaning heavily. He was muttering to himself in a low tone, and it sounded like he was arguing with himself about something. But when he looked in Nico's direction and saw that he was staring back at him, the man's lips curved into something vaguely resembling a smile.

Leaning on his cane he limped over to Nico, who followed him with his gaze, to stand next to him.

"Who are you?" Nico wondered.

The man stared at him and Nico shuddered seeing the naked madness in the other's eyes.

"You're what will save what's left of the world," he said ignoring the question. "The plague didn't kill us all. Some still live, though mutated. Like me."

Plague?

Slowly memories returned, flashing before his mind's eye; pools of red, with or without partly disintegrated forms lying in them, buildings, trees and everything he'd seen on his way there…

There. Yes, he was in a great building into which he'd been lured by that light shining in the windows. And like a moth he'd followed it, with no thought that it might be a trap. He was quite certain now that it had been a trap.

"Who are you?" Nico repeated, fixing the other's gaze with his own and he thought he saw a bit of sanity return.

"I was… am… a scientist, one of the most sought out in my field, in fact." His expression got bitter. "But what does that matter now? Everything is melting away before my very eyes… or so I used to think." He smiled, his features twisting into a picture of horror. "Now I've finally found the answer to how the world can be saved. With you, and the stuff in you that keep you unaffected. I can find the antidote to the illness that has struck down the world and its inhabitants."

A image, far more pleasant than what he was seeing now, appeared before Nico's eyes. A rather short, very beautiful, woman with pale blue skin and long red hair falling down her slender frame. She was wearing a summer dress, the skirt billowing around her legs as she ran laughing over a meadow overgrown by tall grass sprinkled with flowers.

Alana.

Was she still alive? Had the plague reached the Island of Penumbra yet?

"If I promise to help you and not attempt escape, will you let me loss?"

The scientist watched him silently, evaluating, till finally he moved in to work on the restraints about the arms and then the ones circling the ankles. While Nico tentatively moved his limbs, the scientist watched him, a look speaking of familiarity in his grey eyes.

"I'll keep the door and the windows locked," the scientist informed. "Would I catch you trying to get out through either I'll have you restrained again."

Nico nodded to show he understood while he sat up. He'd decided that he would do what he could to help, because he thought that if there was any chance for an antidote he would do his part in it – but to save Alana more than anything else.

This one had been one of the easier ones to persuade to help him in his cause, the scientist thought. Some would have given great resistance before finally giving in, while others, like this one, he just had to tell about the antidote he sought and, if there was any need for further persuading, promising their freedom when it was done.

But then they would have to survive till the end too. This far no one had, but this one didn't have to know that.

The boy sat obediently still as samples was extracted from him and seemed more at ease now when he was no longer tied down and free to move about, as long as he stayed in the laboratory, where he was to stay till the end of the experiment.

* * *

><p>Later on Nico was being left alone for a while, for reasons unknown and unasked for, and he struggled with his own curiosity. The scientist had been very specific about that Nico was not to try to escape, through either the door or the windows, but he had failed to mention <em>the other<em>door.

He stared at it, till he no longer could resist and headed over to it and, to his surprise, found that it was unlocked. At opening the door it was pitch black, but as he stepped inside a sudden bright light filled the room and he was blinded by its intensity.

Blinking against the bright light stinging his eyes Nico walked slowly into this new room, straining to see. As his eyes grew accustom to the light shapes began to appear, neatly lined up by the walls on both sides of him. There, restrained and fastened to the walls, were bodies. Some of them were halfway decomposed, slumped against the wall or sprawled on the floor as they had died and those who still had faces had anguish written over their features, and then there were those unfortunate ones who were still showing signs of being alive. They had, like the scientist, mutated and on their faces as well you could see the anguish and pain that was the result of the plague.

He wondered who they were, were they maybe victims of the Red Death? That would make sense, as they were all in different states of dying – though he found it disturbing that they'd been chained to die as they sat or lay, suppose it was because then they couldn't spread the disease – but if that was the reason it didn't matter much now. The whole world could be overtaken by the plague by now.

But as he watched, one of the still living ones; a young male in what appeared to be his mid-teens, opened his eyes and gazed at Nico the pain ever present in the brown eyes.

"Leave," the boy gasped. "L-leave… while you… still… can…"

"What are you talking about?" Nico inquired. "I've already been promised that I'll be allowed to leave if I help…"

"No!" the boy interrupted him. "He… promised us too… but we… got sick instead…"

They'd been like him? People who like him had survived the plague, to run into the scientist and in aiding him in finding the antidote would win their freedom. But how had he managed to convince so many to help him and how could he have gone through so many since the plague erupted? He must have found them soon after the eruption.

"You… should leave…"

Nico stared into the pain filled eyes for what seemed like a very long time, before he turned and headed back for the door but upon closing it he hesitated for a moment and his eyes roamed across the room and the bodies that had been left there when the experiments had failed. Uneasiness was growing within him.

He could see the sense in the other's words; he _should _leave. But at the same time he thought that it could be unwise to follow that instinct. If he did leave, and if the scientist was really desperate, the scientist may be very keen on finding him again as, as far as he knew, there wasn't much life left in the world and even fewer that could be of help for him. And then Nico would be hunted down and dragged back.

No, he couldn't leave, but maybe he could still save himself from the destiny which the others had suffered.


End file.
